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"Tell Sir Alfred, or whoever else you can reach, to make all haste into the other tower and open the portcullis." |
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It was surprisingly quiet in the tower, the thick walls blocking the shouts and clang of arms from the bailey and from the walls above. Geoffrey's boots on the sanded stone floor could be heard clearly as he took to his heels. Ian also heard the heavier steps of men-at-arms coming down the stairs into the tower base. |
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"Coward," one of the defenders cried passionately, "you will overwhelm us with numbers." |
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Ian laughed. "I do not extend the courtesies of honor to thieving dogs who steal from children and widows." |
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A cry of rage answered Ian's contempt, and the knight leapt at him. Ian laughed again. It was what he had wanted. Others surged forward after the leader, and the solid ring of defenders was broken. Ian's men charged forward also, some to engage and fight, but others worked over the handspikes holding the drawbridge up. The sound of the blows used to loosen the spikes pierced the rage of Ian's attacker. With a shriek of anguish, he realized he had been taunted into his own defeat. Unwisely, he glanced toward the winch he was supposed to defend. Ian laughed one last time and caught his opponent's neck where the turn of the head opened a space. The armor was good; the head was not sheared away, but the man was dead in the next instant anyway, and Ian had to wrench fiercely at his sword to free it from the collarbone. |
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There was, in fact, no particular need for haste in freeing his weapon. The man who lay dead at his feet was the castellan's son, and the others were going down rapidly. Soon the noise of the drawbridge descending was reinforced by the screeches of the portcullis going up. Geoffrey came pelting back with word that the castellan himself was also dead. He had been at the breach in the walls and had been killed in the bailey. |
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